


Healing

by sandy_s



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Choices, Damage Rewrite, F/F, F/M, Healing, Magic, Trauma, Which Willow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: Written for the Which Willow ficathon on LJ. The prompt is: “What if Willow was sent to L.A. to bring back Dana in the Angel: the Series episode, ‘Damage’?”Rating: PG-13 for violence and mild cursingAuthor’s Note: I love this prompt because it lets me write more Willow and Spike scenes, which are needed. This is a Willow fic but has hints of Spike/Buffy, Willow/Tara, and Willow/Kennedy. Special thank you to yellowb for betaing this fic!Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.





	Healing

_Healing doesn’t mean the damage never existed. It means the damage no longer controls our lives.  
-Akshay Dubey_

**Healing**

Willow was nervous. She never got nervous anymore. Well, hardly ever. And this was making her nervous. It wasn’t because she was sitting next to Fred, who was as beautiful and sweet as ever or because she felt like she was back in high school again with a very different Wesley across the way. No. She was nervous because of what they’d told her about – 

Angel and Spike came barreling into the conference room, and Willow found herself on her feet, a crooked, uncertain smile on her face. “Spike. How are you?”

Spike came up short, his blue eyes widening in surprise and then bad-boy nonchalance slipping into place – a nonchalance she hadn’t seen since before he obtained his soul. She wondered if she seemed different, too. She certainly felt that way inside. “Red. It’s good to see you. I’m – “

“He’s being a pain in the ass,” Angel said, crossing his arms. “Just got himself thrown out a window, trying to play hero.”

“It’s not like I was planning for that to happen,” Spike protested. Willow was confused by his harshness, and she thought it must have something to do with his relationship with Angel because Angel was being a bit of a jerk himself. “Thought we covered that.”

As the vampires groused at one another, Willow found her footing and hurried to stand in front of Spike. In a move that she never thought she’d ever make, she threw her arms around the startled vampire and hugged him. “He is a hero. He saved us all.” Willow felt Spike hug her in return, and then she broke away. “Thank you.” 

Spike regarded her with a soft expression. There was the vampire she remembered from the end of Sunnydale. “Think you had a little something to do with it, too. You and everyone else.” There was a question in his eyes, and Willow knew he wanted to ask about Buffy.

Before Willow could speak again, Wesley said, “Actually. We were just about to discuss what happened in Sunnydale and how it impacted the Slayer line.”

Willow was confused. “You mean, no one’s asked Spike about it?”

* * *

Willow, of course, followed Spike when he stalked out of the conference room. Angel and his crew had been going on in great detail about Slayers and the First as well as the impact on the world and people like the young lady who had mental health struggles on top of becoming a Slayer and having Slayer nightmares. Spike had all but said they were wankers who were wasting time. “Spike. Wait up.”

“You’re welcome to come. But I’m going at it my own way.” Spike was angry, and Willow reminded herself it wasn’t about her. 

Willow hurried after him toward the Wolfram and Hart exit, something she was very grateful to see. There was something about being in the evil law firm that gave her the wiggins even if Angel and his crew now ran it. She had been on the fence when Giles and Buffy had been so strongly against Angel’s takeover of the firm, but now that she’d been here. . . . She shuddered. “I’m coming with.” She gulped in the cool night air as they exited the building and headed out onto the street. “Where are we going?”

“The docks. Where the action is. Gonna suss out where she is with a little on the ground detective work.” 

“O-okay.” Willow thought of something that seemed obvious but maybe because she was a witch. Spike hadn’t been around her in a while, and last time he had, she’d been all shaky and terrified to use her skills. “Got anything of hers? I could do a locator spell.” 

Spike halted and gave her another one of those small smiles. “Right. Forgot who I was dealing with. Um. . .” He pulled aside his duster and searched his shirt. “Here. Some of her blood from our fight. That’s all I’ve got. Can you work with that?”

“That’s perfect.” Willow liked feeling helpful, and nowadays, a locator spell required little of the trappings it used to. Since she’d let herself get back in touch with her power, she was learning to hone it a lot differently than ever before. She touched the stiff spot on Spike’s shirt. “It’s blood all right. Hold on a minute.” 

“No map needed, eh?” Spike sounded amused and impressed. 

“Nope.” Willow closed her eyes and called on the magic, nudging it awake inside her. As the magic stirred, she felt something ancient and timeless connect from the earth through the soles of her feet. Tendrils of enchantment spiraled around her ankles joining with her very being. She sent a wish to know where the Slayer was down the channeled power – it made her think briefly of Anya, and in what felt like a fraction of a second, she just knew. “She’s by the docks.”

“Coulda told you that,” Spike said with some pride. 

“Yeah. But you don’t know exactly where on the docks.” Willow twirled her finger in the air, and a tiny green light appeared. “Follow the very familiar and convenient dot o’light.”

“Alright then.” 

Together, they trailed the dancing emerald dot, walking side by side. The night breeze made her shiver, and she hugged her arms around her ribcage. Spike offered his coat, but she refused. That just felt weird. She had no trouble borrowing a coat from Xander because he was like a brother, but there was something about taking Spike up on his offer that would have made her feel like she was intruding on Buffy’s turf. 

Though Willow and Spike had been in the house on Revello Drive together for months, she couldn’t remember the last time she took a walk with the vampire. Somehow, the walking felt right as if a puzzle piece had been missing and was now found again. Truth be told, Willow had been missing everyone. Well, Xander, Buffy, Dawn, and Giles most of all. And she counted the lost – Tara, Spike and Anya – in that bunch of people that she longed to see again. Conference calls with everyone in different parts of the world just weren’t the same. “How come you didn’t tell anyone that you were back?”

Spike shrugged. “Wasn’t corporeal for a long bit there. Couldn’t exactly reach out, and when I was solid again. . . I don’t bloody know. Maybe I wasn’t sure who’d even care.”

Willow considered giving him a playful shove the way she would have Xander and telling him he was an idiot the way Buffy would have, but Willow decided that might not be wise. Instead, she said, “Well, you’ve been missed. More than you know. And that includes Buffy. Well, according to Dawn, who lives with her.” Spike gave Willow a questioning look. “Dawn texts me all the time about random stuff. She’s lonely.”

“The Bit’s lonely?” Spike was expressing concern about Dawn, but Willow knew he was thinking about Buffy, too. 

“We all are,” Willow admitted. “We’re spread out all over the place.”

“Where are you?” Spike asked, glancing at her before crossing an empty street. 

“South America. But we spend a lot of time in Rio. We have to cover the whole continent, so R&R is needed. Though I guess everyone has big sections of the world to cover. It’s a lot of putting out fires.” Willow almost immediately regretted saying the “we” because she so didn’t want to go there. 

Of course, Spike picked up on the slight trip in her voice over the word, skipping over the location stuff. “We, huh? Still with the Miss Full of Herself?” 

Willow’s eyes slipped to the fire hydrant they were passing. “Maybe.”

Spike was quiet for a moment. “All’s not right in the henhouse.” It was a statement.

Willow tugged on her pinky finger. “You could say that.”

“She’s not Tara. Or the wolf.”

Willow’s eyes filled with tears, and she sped up a little to move past a man riding his bike. “She’s really not.” And that was part of the reason why she even volunteered to come to L.A. in the first place. Andrew had wanted to come, but she’d overridden him in the conference call, and everyone else had let her. He was still a little bit of a loose cannon. 

Spike studied her when he caught up with her. “She’s alright for a bit of fun but not what you’re looking for in a long-term partner.” 

Willow was startled out of her musings but recovered with a teasing query. “Who are you? Dr. Phil?” Then she remembered she was exhausted because she’d gone straight from the airport to Wolfram and Hart. “How far are these docks?”

Spike nodded. “Long walk for a human.” He inclined his head to the right. “Hotel one street over. Ready cabs. Might be a bit expensive.”

“Oh.” Willow waved a hand at him. “I can cover the cost.” She wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, but she imagined Spike had even less. 

Spike arched an eyebrow at her and produced a credit card out of his inner duster pocket. 

A giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it. “You have a credit card?”

Spike shrugged one shoulder. “Got it when I was haunting the so-called law firm. Fred thought I should have something just in case. I’ve used it in a pinch, and it’s still activated even though I’m mostly at odds with the place nowadays. Figure this counts as a pinch since we’re doing the firm’s job.” 

Willow frowned. Going after Dana wasn’t exactly Angel’s job. Willow was also supposed to be checking out the situation with the older vampire and reporting back to Giles and Buffy, who were very suspicious of what was going on at Wolfram and Hart. Somehow, no one had heard. . . or shared that Spike was back. “Well, technically. . .”

Spike sighed as if irritated by her efforts to point out the lines – lines which they’d all crossed at one time or another. Lines were of the good but wearisome. “The girl’s a bit insane. Not right in the head. Thought I’d help her out the best I can. Can relate a bit – from personal experience. Not just Dru. Thought you could relate, too.”

As they crossed another street and Willow glimpsed the brighter, welcoming lights of the hotel, she considered her journey off the rails the year Tara was killed. “Good point.”

“You know I’m not just doing this to get at Angel, right?” Spike’s eyes glowed blue and earnest as they approached the pair of taxis ready and waiting around the lobby entrance.

Willow smirked and raised her own eyebrows. “Maybe?”

“Not everything’s about the ole poof as much as he’d like it to be. I’m figuring things out for myself.” Spike was a little too insistent. There was something to the set of his jaw that made Willow hesitate to say more at that moment. 

Spike approached the closest cab and pulled open the door to the backseat. It took Willow a second to realize he was holding it open for her. She offered him a little smile and climbed inside. With a flick of her finger, she drew the green GPS dot back to her where it landed behind her ear – a soft bit of warmth on pause. 

“Where to?” the older cabbie asked. 

“The docks,” Spike said, slamming the door shut. 

As the driver wove in and out of the streets and headed toward their chosen destination, Willow fidgeted with the crack in the seat, moving the bit of roughly torn leather back and forth. The silence was awkward. The vampire next to her lounged back with his right arm propped up on the back of the seat, his left elbow at the base of the window. He almost vibrated with power the same way Buffy and other Slayers always did now that Willow was in touch with magic and supernatural forces in a different way than ever before. She tried to think of a topic that wouldn’t make the driver suspicious and all she could think about was Buffy. 

Willow bit the inside her cheek and went for it. “So, you don’t have to figure things out by yourself, you know.”

Spike’s eyebrows moved together just a fraction but then resumed their casual stance. “What do you mean?”

He was being so avoid-y, but Willow persisted as was her way when she cared about someone. “I mean, there are people out there in the world who care about you. People not in L.A.” 

“You mean you lot?” There was hurt under the hint of anger. “I don’t exactly believe that you and yours care very much for me at all.”

“You fought with us. You’ve been part of the team for a very long time.”

“An unwelcome tagger on. I’m right tired of being around people who don’t want me around.” 

Willow twisted her mouth to one side and then said, “But you’re not the loner type. You’re a people person.”

Spike snorted. “I’m a person in your eyes now that I saved. . .” he glanced at the cab driver and shifted gears, “made a decent decision. Now that I sacrificed. . .” His eyes sheened with tears, and he turned his head just far enough away that she couldn’t see his face. 

“Buffy wasn’t tired of you being around.”

His voice was tight as if he was trying to hold back emotion. “You don’t know diddly about my relationship with Buffy. No one does but me and her. And that doesn’t matter anyway because it’s long done.”

Willow fought back the urge to snap at him that six-ish months was hardly long done. As a vampire, he should really know better. Instead, she found herself asking, “Is there something between you and Fred?” Willow could see that; she had a crush on the sweet scientist, mostly because she was kind and sensitive and empathic but had this backbone that was surprising. She reminded Willow a bit of Tara in that way, which Willow supposed was why she was drawn to Fred. A desperate, ghostly Spike would gravitate toward someone like her. 

Spike gritted his teeth. “No. She’s a nice lady. Deserves a bit more than the likes of me.”

Willow felt her heart move into her throat as she said the next words. “Buffy misses you.” She paused to make sure her voice wouldn’t crack. “Like I miss Tara.” 

Spike regarded her with kindness in his eyes. “Then, you need to break up with your Slayer. It’s not fair to her.” 

She knew he was right but still. She tamped down her own guilt and pushed on. “I know I do. But that’s not the point. Didn’t you hear what I said about Buffy missing you?” Willow considered that he was now chip-less and might react in ways that she couldn’t predict here in this taxi where she couldn’t get away. 

He closed his eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

“Well, you better get to changing your mind about that because it’s true. And now she’ll know you’re here, and she’s going to be so hurt – ”

“She can’t know that I’m back.” The intensity of his interruption frightened Willow a bit, and he must have noticed because he backed down. “I’m sorry. I just don’t. . .”

“Don’t what?” When he didn’t reply for several seconds, Willow said, “You know how much I miss Tara, right?” It was rhetorical because they’d both been pointing it out. “Well, Buffy misses you that much, too. She’s not always good at. . . she’s been messed up for good reason. Lots of good reasons that we can’t. . . shouldn’t get into here.” She meant in the cab though the driver had an ear full now. “But I know Buffy. She loves you. And she hasn’t. . . well, she hasn’t – ”

“She hasn’t slept with anyone else? Given her heart to anyone else?” He sounded like he knew the answers and didn’t want to admit it. Maybe he was too afraid to admit it. 

“She’s taking time. Like I should have after Tara. Well, I did, but clearly not long enough.” Willow sighed – the ache for Tara like a painful knot in her chest. 

“And then, there’s Angel.”

Willow scoffed. “She told me about the kiss right after everything. She felt so guilty. And haven’t you ever done anything stupid like kissed someone and regretted it?” Spike gave her a panicked look like maybe she was right. Good. “And you know her well enough to know that she’s been through hell, and she’s not even twenty-five yet. She’s allowed to be confused about love and all of that.” Willow considered that maybe she was trying to be compassionate to herself. Huh. That was new.

“I’m done talking about this, Red.” The edge in Spike’s tone said he was definitely done, so Willow left the topic alone with the intention of maybe returning to it later because somehow, talking about it was helping her, too. 

* * * 

Spike’s body sailed through the air past Willow, crashing into one of the many giant barrels in the alley by the docks. This left Willow face to face with an angry, psychotic Slayer who was filled with adrenaline in her mission to. . . Willow really wasn’t sure what the girl was driven to do given that she was confusing Slayer dreams and memories with reality. 

“The way is blocked. Move out of my way,” the Slayer growled with legs spread wide and hands balled into powerful fists. 

Willow felt power surge within her, traveling down her arm as she prepared to try to lasso Dana with a band of magic the way Giles had briefly held evil-Willow – the person she was when she was doing evil. Dark-her was the same person. She was the same person. Guilt soared through her as the emotional weight of what she’d done flew back into her awareness, overwhelming her to the point that she was distracted.

Dana’s leg swept up to hit Willow’s head, but she recovered enough to duck and only get shoved roughly to the ground as the Slayer growled in frustration. The concrete scraped over the back of Willow’s hand and her forearm, but adrenaline made her barely register any pain. “Dana! It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.”

Dana’s dark hair was filthy and hanging heavily about her face, and her eyes were wild. “That’s not true. You’re a witch. Magic is deadly when used improperly. Magic has consequences. You hurt people. You hurt the girl.” She blinked as confusion crossed her features. “He hurt the girl. Move out of the way.”

Willow shut up at that but wasn’t as thrown as she might have been even a few months ago. She held up her hand with her open palm toward the Slayer in a placating gesture. “I have hurt people. Well, I never really intended to in the first place, but I did. And nowadays? I try really hard to be aware of my blind spots, so I don’t go there again.”

“I’ve been hurt. By a monster.” A tear slid down Dana’s dirt-smeared cheek. 

Willow gathered her legs under her and slowly moved closer to the Slayer, hoping to draw her in. “And you won’t be hurt again. Not like that.”

Spike coughed – a cough that was less than fortuitous.

The last thing Willow remembered was a fist connecting to her jaw followed by darkness. 

* * *

Willow woke – her jaw sore and already a little stiff. Opening and closing her mouth and wincing, she was grateful to discover that she still had all her teeth. Dana was a Slayer, so face punching could have been much worse. Willow sat up slowly, waiting for some lightheadedness to pass and then stood on unsteady legs. 

A quick visual scan told her that Spike was nowhere to be found, but Spike’s blood was still dripping thick and dark down the side of one of the barrels. A quick location spell later, and her little green friend was rushing away to find Spike. 

Willow ran, straining to keep the emerald guide in sight. When the light disappeared next to a wall in the distance, her heart sank, but as soon as she caught up, she realized that the dab of light had entered an open doorway. 

Without much thought, Willow followed, hesitating in the darkness to allow herself to adjust to the dimmer hallway. Catching the drop of the green light downward, she hurried, suddenly mindful to be quieter. She snapped her fingers as quietly as possible to turn off the spell, and she crept forward, hearing scuffling noises from below.

She hesitated at the top of the staircase she found, listening with intention for any clues to what might be happening. 

Silence met her ears, and she held her breath.

A scraping sound pierced the quiet, and she almost jumped out of her skin because it was so loud. A moment later, she realized that the sound was actually farther away than she thought, and she heard a soft groan. 

“Shhh. Piece by piece. No one can hurt you if they don’t have the right pieces,” Dana murmured to herself, and then the scraping sound resumed followed by a soft thump. “One down.”

“Two to go,” Willow mouthed to herself and shuddered as she eased down the steps. 

Her eyes searched the shadows, and in the light from the smudge-streaked windows, she saw that Spike was out cold. His body was slumped awkwardly as if he hadn’t put himself there, and his pale, usually oh-so expressive face was unmoving. Dana was crouched next to him, the metal of the bone saw glinting in her hand. 

Willow glimpsed what had been scraping. Oh my god. The traumatized and psychotic Slayer was cutting off Spike’s hands. 

Dana stood with abruptness, her muscles as fluid and tense as a big cat’s. Willow felt her heart skip a beat, and she felt the urge to flee as any sane person would. But she retained enough control with her frontal lobe to stay. 

“Interrupting again.” Dana’s face twisted into a wicked-looking smile as her eyes narrowed. “Maybe you should join. Maybe you need to be handless. Can’t do magic then, right?” 

Willow’s voice was hoarse coming out of her mouth, and she inanely thought of the Gentlemen – taking hearts and voices but not hands. “It’s n-not quite how magic works.”

Dana cast her eyes down on Spike. “He said it would be magical. He was going to show me a magic trick. Said it would be fun.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t.”

“Sometimes guys do not so nice. . . do horrible things. But not all guys, and Spike didn’t do anything to you.” Willow hoped, assuming that wasn’t true, but she couldn’t be too sure because Spike had been recently immersed in doing evil. 

“He did. He killed me.” Dana uttered a string of words in what sounded like an Asian language before closing in on herself, eyes squeezing shut before she abruptly opened them again. They were feverish with a swirl of emotions that Willow couldn’t make sense of. “And me. Left my son an orphan.”

“Y-your son?”

“Robin. He’s so little.” She squatted and addressed the air as if she were talking tenderly with a child and then with growing anger. “He needs his mother, and he took me away from him. He deserves to have no hands. He deserves no more parts. No more heart. He deserves to be dust.” Dana abruptly rummaged around in her bag and produced a jagged bit of wood. 

“Wait!” Willow held out her hand again. Her mind raced over what the Slayer was saying. Was she talking about Robin Wood? Dana was having memories of Spike killing other Slayers. Ohhh. Like Buffy’s Slayer dreams but more real in her mind because why? Of what she went through? That must be so confusing to not know what reality was. This was feeling familiar to Willow. Her heart thundered in her ears. 

Dana hesitated but gripped the makeshift stake. 

Willow felt the words come at the same moment that she realized using magic on Dana wouldn’t solve anything – wouldn’t help her. “I know what this is. What’s happening to you.” She took a step toward the Slayer.

Dana took a parallel step back, staring at Willow.

“You went through a big traumatic thing, and you never really processed it. It haunted you, but you avoided talking about it, thinking about it. You just went on though it almost killed you to try to function. You tried hard to please the people who loved you. You were a good girl. Maybe even put a smile on your face. If you could.” Willow’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. “And you should know if no one ever told you. It wasn’t your fault. What that guy did to you? He’s the sick one. You were just a girl who wanted to see a magic trick.”

“No,” Dana said, maintaining her rigid stance and the hold on the weapon. 

Willow considered that there was faux safety in that. The battles of the mind and heart could not be conquered with physical violence. Or magic. How well she knew that. “And then, to add insult to injury, you started having dreams. Hallucinations. You started questioning yourself and reality. Then one day out of the blue, you had more power than you ever dreamed of having.” Willow inched forward as she talked, hoping she wouldn’t have to use magic to get Dana to back down. “But you know what? That second round of trauma to your brain? It isn’t Spike’s fault. It was my fault, and Buffy’s fault, and if you think about it, it was those people that created the scythe’s fault for causing you pain. And if there’s anything left inside you of the girl who I know has to be hella strong, you’ll know this is true.”

“Buffy has a mission like the others. Like me,” Dana said in confusion. More tears cascaded down her face. “She kills vampires.” She glanced at Spike. “But not him.”

Willow shook her head. “No. Not Spike. He fought for a soul for her. He helped save the world.”

Dana’s face crumpled, her fingers loosening. “That doesn’t make sense. Vampires should be cut apart. Dust is best.”

“I’m sorry that we hurt you. We didn’t know there’d be these kinds of consequences, and we want to help. Me and Buffy and a bunch of people. There are a lot of girls like you, and there’s a place in England where there are witches like me.” Dana’s sudden alarm made Willow amend, “They’re good witches. Healers.” Willow still had a ways to go in her own healing, and Ms. Harkness was going to kill her for making promises, so she tried to be honest. “It’s so peaceful. One of the most peaceful places I’ve ever been.”

Dana stared at her for several seconds until Willow thought she might need to use magic after all, and then, with little warning, the Slayer’s face softened. Willow swore she looked a little like Dawn. “Will it hurt?” When Willow didn’t immediately respond, Dana dropped the stake where it landed with a clatter on the concrete floor. She hugged her arms – her vulnerability hanging in the air between them. “Will it hurt? The healing?”

Willow let out a relieved breath. “Maybe. Probably. Yes. But not like before. Sometimes, it seems like it will never get better, but then, one day, you’ll wake up and think that maybe you might be okay.” 

* * *

Willow watched as Spike stirred awake. The drugs Dana had given him and then Fred and crew had added were finally wearing off. She was nervous again. The nerves were for lots of reasons, but the immediate one was how Spike was going to react to what she was about to – 

“Willow?” Spike gingerly propped up on one elbow. “Why am I in a hospital bed?”

Willow rose from the uncomfortable chair where she’d been curled up. She held onto the rail on Spike’s bed. “You’re awake.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He held up his bandaged hand and examined the fingers sticking out the end. “What happened to my arm?”

Willow decided to answer the easy one first. “Dana cut your hand off. And you’re not in a real hospital. You’re in the infirmary at the law firm. I got Fred to use her resources to fix it up for you.”

“What happened to the Slayer?”

Willow bit her lip, not wanting to describe everything that had happened. She didn’t know who might be listening. Goosebumps flew over her forearms, and she shivered. The longer she was here, the more she wanted to leave, and the meddlesome part of her was determined to convince Spike to come with her. “She’s resting for now. She’s fine.”

Spike studied her face in that piercing way of his. She could tell he wanted to ask more, but he was picking up on something. Guess he was still astute enough to read her; she supposed it made sense. They’d worked together – or at least side-by-side for a long time. Spike wiggled his fingers. “Doesn’t even hurt. Let me guess. Magic stitches?”

Willow shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe? Healing magic isn’t my forte. That was Tara’s. I didn’t exactly involve myself in your healing. And Fred was eager to help.”

Spike smiled. “Fred. She’s been there for me. A real lady.” 

“And you don’t have a crush on her?” Willow knew that Fred was loved by many. She didn’t have to be around them long to realize that.

“Maybe a little one. But she’s got her eye on the head boy. And. . . ” Spike tilted his head slightly – his form of a shrug.

Willow frowned. Head boy? Oh. “Wesley.”

“Yeah. It’s all unrequited and such.” Spike rolled his eyes. 

“Unlike you and Buffy.”

“Buffy and I. . . it’s not mutual love.” He sounded so earnest that Willow stopped herself from chastising him for not seeing what was so clear to her.

Instead, she said, “I was going to kidnap you.”

She must have surprised him because he chuckled. “Kidnap me? Take me where?”

“To see Buffy. I’m taking Dana with me to Devon for healing with the coven there, and Buffy wanted to fly to meet us.” Willow picked at a hangnail on her pinky to avoid looking at him. She was a little afraid how he might react to her telling on him.

He lifted his head. “She did?” 

Willow nodded. “She did.”

“As in past tense?” Spike sighed and shrank back against the pillow. “Ah, well. That about sums things up.”

“Let me finish.” Willow huffed and shook her head at him, and he had the decency to look a tad sheepish. “But then, I told her that it was up to you. I’m not a go-between, and I’m all with the not messing around in other people’s business these days.” She was trying not to. “I already felt guilty enough for telling her after you said not to. She said she could respect that the decision was yours.” 

“Oh.” Spike was quiet for a long moment and then asked, “What would you do?”

Willow couldn’t remember a time when Spike asked her opinion on something. For some weird reason, her mind went back to the burned up factory where Spike brought her when he kidnapped her to cast that spell to make Drusilla love him again. Willow decided that she and Spike had come farther than she’d ever dreamed possible. “If it were Tara?” Her heart suddenly ached. “That’s not even a question. I’d go.”

“Buffy and I. . . we don’t have what you and Tara did.”

“But you could. If you let yourselves.” Willow said wistfully. She wasn’t sure if saying that was meddling, but it felt right.

Spike studied her face, and something shifted in his eyes. “I need to talk with Angel.”

* * *

In the end, Spike had decided to fly with Willow to England, and Giles had sprung for a private jet – just this once. He said they couldn’t very well have Dana potentially go off the rails in coach and create more problems. They’d taken a few Slayers from the L.A. area with them as back up and temporarily sedated Dana so that she was fast asleep in a small private room on the plane. The other Slayers were stationed in the chairs around her, taking shifts to stay awake or sleep. 

In the front of the plane, Spike and Willow sat across the aisle from one another in large comfy chairs, and she was pretending to read a novel she’d picked up at the airport solely because the cover was pretty. Spike was anxiously drinking tiny bottles of alcohol, which Willow thought probably did nothing to take the edge off with vampire constitution. 

Shifting the very boring novel to one hand, she held out her free one toward the vampire. 

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, Red? You getting antsy? Want to hold my hand?” He was teasing.

She shook her head. “Vodka please.” 

“You gonna make faces like Buffy?”

“I don’t even want to know what that’s a reference to.” Willow waggled her hand up and down. “Just pass me a bottle. Do you have a flavored one?”

“Flavored? What? No!” He slapped a mini-bottle of vodka against her waiting palm. “If you want a mixer, ask the stewardess. Oh, wait. We don’t have one.” There was just a pilot – someone that one of the Slayers’ Watchers knew.

Willow grinned. “Thanks.” She screwed off the small cap and took a gulp. The liquid burned a little on the way down. “Whoof.” 

Then, she held the top of her bottle toward Spike, who reached across the aisle and clinked his with hers. They both took another swig.

“So,” Spike said, “are you going to let your little Slayer know the truth of the matter? Or just keep enjoying her for the moment?”

Of course, Spike got right to the heart of things. 

Willow studied the tiny design on the label, wondering how they printed it so small. “I think I’m going to have to tell her soon. I’m not sure how it’s going to affect our work in Sao Paulo, but she’s ready for something more, and I’m just. . . not. The timing’s all off. It was in Sunnydale, too, if I’m being honest with myself.”

Spike opened another bottle. “Or maybe she’d never be the right one. It’s okay to have a safe rebound.” 

“You’re right. Like Harmony?” It had been strange to see the vampire at the law firm as Angel’s secretary. One more weird thing in a list of weird things at Wolfram and Hart.

“Ah, Harm.” He sounded almost regretful. “Exactly like her.” 

They drank in silence for a few more minutes, Willow sipping on her one bottle and Spike downing three more.

“How’d you do it with the other Slayer?” Spike finally asked.

Willow was confused. “Are we still talking about Kennedy?”

“Dana. How’d you get her to back down?” Spike’s eyes were bright with curiosity. Maybe some of the brightness was from the liquor.

The alcohol was warm in Willow’s tummy, and she felt a bit floaty. “By making a lot of assumptions and hoping I was right. Or at least partly.” 

“Assumptions?” Spike prodded.

“Yeah. Inferences from what she was saying. She was saying someone hurt her, and then, of course, Angel confirmed it later. They have some ‘psychic’ on the payroll.” Willow made a face.

“Yeah. The Slayer was mixing me up with someone else. Thought I’d hurt her. Drugged her.” Spike rolled the bottle between his fingers thoughtfully.

“She was also having Slayer images. Hallucinations? Of you killing Slayers.”

“That, too. Mass confusion in her brain. Can relate to that to a point.” He was talking about his soul and being insane in the school basement again. “And?”

Willow thought about how to summarize it. “And so I told her that what happened wasn’t her fault. What happened with the guy and what happened with the Slayer dreams and becoming a Slayer. It wasn’t her fault.”

Spike gazed at her considerately. “You owned the piece that was yours.” 

“I did.” Willow studied her hands. “And told her that we wanted to help her. I’m hoping the coven can ease her pain. It’s not something a drug or a therapist can help with. At least the Slayer parts.”

“Her brain’s sustained a lot of damage.”

“We’ve caused a lot of damage.” Willow met his eyes. She wasn’t sure what she was referring to. . . her past mistakes, his past mistakes, or the creation of more Slayers. 

“We have.” 

“And we’ve been damaged. Sometimes, by our own hand.” Willow still felt a little – or maybe a lot broken – but somehow different in a not-so-bad way. “And we’re healing. Figuring things out. Figuring out who we are now that we’re different than before. She will, too.” Willow wasn’t sure if she was reassuring Spike or herself. 

“It’s a process,” Spike added.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Good to do together and not alone.”

“Right.” 

Spike offered Willow a warm smile, which she returned, and she realized she didn’t feel nervous anymore.

The end.  
December 11, 2018  
10:46 AM


End file.
